


True Blue

by OwlEspresso



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Blue Mage | BLU (Final Fantasy XIV), F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Mild Gore, Viera Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 07:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20004316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlEspresso/pseuds/OwlEspresso
Summary: Out of the light, born into the Blue.Glimpses from the life of the Warrior of Light, who has been a blue mage this entire time.





	True Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Unsure if this will be more than one chapter.
> 
> Blue mage has always been my favorite class, and even though I haven't gotten to the point where I can become one, yet, I already have a lot of ideas for lore surrounding it.

Blue magic is bad for children, they said. And I thought they must be joking.

They weren’t. It turns out absorbing spells, dragging the raw strings of life and energy from monsters and animals is dangerous for children. It can overload them, a glass too full of milk or wine, and make their little bodies shatter.

I took a Sanguine Bite at the tender age of seven. My hands, like claws, wreathed and tangled in the fur of the mongrel like grabbing the hair impassioned lover grabbing.

And then I Bit back.

Since then, it’s just been blue, blue, blue.

\---

I didn’t know it was called blue magic until I overheard it between two passerby in the crowded markets of Limsa Lominsa. They might have been arcanists, thaumaturges. They huddled together like old women pathetically gossiping about new technology that scared them. Tales of mages like monsters rattled their tongues and made their eyes wide.

I wondered what scared them. Didn’t white mages also use magic that wasn’t really their own? Didn’t they steal from the earth, wield the elements to aid and protect? 

Their ignorance was palpable, but most people had long since turned their back on blue magic and all it offers, so they go unreprimanded. 

I slowed to listen and passed them by, like fickle tides on the ocean blue, blue, blue.

\---

No one was kind to pauper children. We scuttled around like little rats underneath the decks, dug our fingers into pockets and occasionally our fangs into each other. My eyes glowed bright as I tore into the hide of an unsuspecting peer, Blood Drain doing its damage and sending him scuttling into the shadows. Perhaps I was too hard on him, but he really shouldn’t have tried to steal what little food I had left.

The talons of civilization clung tight to my back and the want for the wild scalded me at every turn. Limsa Lominsa was people doing people things, an organized society that shunned and pushed away things that they didn’t understand. 

Like the kobolds.

I watched guards pass metal and coin with the kobolds. Why? I thought. Why would they lower themselves from the wild in which they came, and delve into this unsavory mess? 

There was a certain, targeted roughness in which the guards behaved, then. Their eyes narrowed and the skin their faces edged on sneers. This, I remember thinking, this is not what peace is.

When I watched the very same men turn their blades on the very same kobolds, I was not surprised. 

I was even more not surprised when a teenager came upon my small dwelling underneath the dock, his hands in his pockets, his eyes something wild and driven by power, by knowing he was above me in terms of status, funding, birthright, occupation, everything. Moonlight caught on dagger he brought out, but jets of water spread from my palm and his organs sloshed over fresh cement.

He was covered in red, but all I saw was blue, blue, blue.

\---

I am twenty-four and hundreds of years away from Limsa Lominsa, nested in the arid depths of Thanalan when a group of thugs and a golem spring from the shadows. 

And I am struck by something different when Thancred Waters darts from the shadows and intercepts the swing of a Brass Blade’s sword with his dagger. The metal between the two weapons screeches and glistens.

Afterwards, he turns to me with a smile much too boyish. His eyes crinkle with it and the mirth there doesn’t at all fit the adrenaline-pumping, life-threatening situation we’d just clawed out way out of.

I barely resist the temptation to make fun of his shoes.

I am twenty-three when I am knee-deep in dirty water, hard pressed and challenged by a strange man in a dark hood and the imp he summons. It snaps at me with gnarled teeth that catch on my cane, and Thancred sinks his daggers into it from behind while I beat it senseless. 

I don’t stop after it’s crumpled in the cloudy ravine. My arm hurts, but every time I hit it I’m rewarded with a sick, wet crack. It's satisfying, to not only see, but also hear the fruits of my labor.

I am not done until it’s a mere mess of crinkled bones and flesh.

Thancred’s smile is still boyish.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing spells like yours,” there’s a bounce in his step that is too much as we walk back to Ul’dah together. The sound of footsteps in the sand next to mine is unfamiliar. 

This isn’t right. Something in my head says to me.

But it feels right. It feels right, and isn’t that all that really matters?

“It’s blue magic,” no one’s ever asked me about it, before. The words feel like cotton on my clumsy tongue, “I learn my spells from monsters. After being hit by them.”

“Sounds… awfully painful, but I suppose we all get by in different ways,” he’s not disgusted, or afraid, “But I’m glad someone so strong was there to help save the day, regardless. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

It’s new. It’s new, and that’s what makes it scary. He’s not a child who runs and cowers at purple-tinged ice spikes that sprout from the ground. He’s not a thaumaturge who grimaces at the extended fangs of Sanguine Bite and thinks that it’s an unrefined, monstrous form of magic.

I am now not a wolf, but a sheepish waif who can barely look at him. His eyes crinkle up with his smile in the way they always seem to do.

His eyes are brown, and I suddenly think they go together well with my blue, blue, blue.


End file.
